News spread far and wide through the systems of the Siren Shipmaster and her trade ship. Those who had fought off a defected military raid ship and won.

Then, rumors followed: of her fearsome ship-beast. Of the murderous rampage that came in retribution. It was said the beast had not stopped until all that had harmed the crew lay dead. Fully equipped Sikka, broken down to pulp beneath its rage.

As things often did, along the fringes, these rumors quickly turned to fame, and fame was quick to jump to legend as the story left one mouth and was retold by another. From trader to trader, port to port, until everything was lost upon countless retellings and translations.

The word also spread of the bounty the shipmaster had collected as well. The raid ship had been found responsible for the deaths of at least seven ships and their crews, and it was no small fee the Union rewards for such a thing, to be sure. Yet, it what was done with those credits that truly solidified the shipmaster's fame. To hear that every credit had gone to the families of the dead as compensation: all forty-three of them? Surely, their families and clans would grieve, but none would not be cast out onto the streets from a lack of income. None would go hungry.

So it was, that shipmaster Yitale went from being barely a trip away from permanent grounding, to the Captain of the most requested trade ship overnight. Her status was that of a warrior trader of old, reborn into the new era of commerce. At every new port applicants fought tooth and nail for a chance to join the crew. Contracts, previously turning her ship away, now flooded in like a dam had broken. Her vessel had been repaired and outfitted in tokens of favor and generosity.

To say she was unsure of what to do with it all was an understatement. In fact, she was downright overwhelmed. As if the moral support hadn't been enough though, the job offers were far more impressive. The most highly esteemed of the trade jobs and route were along the fringes, many heading close to the quarantine zone's ever-expanding border, were now cracked wide open for her to choose from. It was common knowledge that the Union military funded lucrative work that could set an entire crew for retirement after only a few cycles.

Yet, there were the risks. The dangers involved, which balanced that scale.

Deserters and slavers moved in when the military moved out. The Union would leave outposts of course, and it was these that were crucial to their supply lines, but Union reinforcement quickly faded when leaving systems behind, and their manpower was thinned as they carried forward. While this drive the need for deliveries to pass to civilian crews, the work was a dangerous business in-between ports.

Yitale was hard pressed to weight the proper balance between credits, and safety- and between those two, safety was very much her first concern.

Of her original crew, only twenty-seven had survived, and of those only twenty three were fit for duty. She and her spawn, of course, had survived. The medical crew, for one exception, had also survived, as had half of those who had sheltered on the bridge, and several lucky engineers who had been in the good fortune of finding themselves in right place at the right time. That place, of course, had been behind the ship-beast. Yitales barely bonded “human” as he identified himself.

Strangely enough, the creature seemed content to remain in the position. Satisfied to act as a guardian for the time being. Which was a decision that was fine by her opinion, despite her extreme unease with the ramifications.

Intelligent species were not meant to be ship-beast. If the human had been a recognized species with representation in the Union, Yitale knew she'd already be locked away on some prison station- or worse.

To collar someone like that was a terrible crime, and to force a psychic bond on one...

Well, that certainly wasn't good either, if for much more complicated reasons that she'd clearly have to find a way to deal with sooner or later.

Still, despite his mysterious origins, she knew that, at the very least, the human was far more than capable at the job.

Any individual who could take down an entire raiding party of defected Union military troopers, was a welcome addition to her crew. The fact that their situation was complicated, was just something she would have to deal with as it came up.

Glacing to her side, Yitale noted him: the human.

He stood quietly at her side on the bridge, collar gleaming reflections of light and holograms before sealing to his flesh, as if his skin was simply metal for that chosen portion. The translator patches had sealed to his flesh and been similarly incorporated, but were no longer visible, as they sealed to the bone beneath his skin.

Just as he'd arrived, he continued to wear a simple garment which covered his waist and a portion of his lower legs, but that was all. The human had said the ship was slightly too warm for him in clothing, and his metabolism was more than enough to prove this true. Her medical crew had indicated that he could put away more food than any five of the other crew members combined.

Which still seemed a little strange, as a simple glance at the strange creature would not identify it as so. Clearly, it seemed dense, perhaps. When it bared teeth, the human seemed quite primal in form, and appearance... but not inherently lethal. Not the type of species that would need to eat so much...

Yet, Yitale knew first hand that this was deception.

If the broken brace at her wrist wasn't proof enough, the weapon that hung on the wall next to the human would be. She had sent the human to guard her spawn and several of the accompanying crew members as they went on shore leave, and they'd taken many of the dead Sikka's liberated weapons along with them. She'd instructed them to exchange them for what they could, and equip themselves accordingly.

It was customary to have crews let off to spend some of their hard earned credits, but she had not expected the crew to spend a majority of their additional credits on a single purchase.

The result was a long, two handed, blade. It had apparently been put together with the metal from two of the swords left behind after the attack. Melted down and molded by a powerful forge then shaped based on a pre-existing blueprint of some variety.

... it was excessive, to say the least.

Obviously, the weapon had been originally drawn up for a military mechanized unit. No ordinary species could ever be expected to use the sword. Thread-woven as it was, she suspected it might hold a strong similarity with the material that made up her outer hull. Dense, interwoven, metallic, sheets that had been crafted together under intense pressure and steered into shape by electromagnetic pulses.

No doubt, a weapon of such mass that would throw any of her crew off balance no matter how much they dropped the gravity on the ship, yet it seemed seemed graceful in the human's hands. With a single edge, which dropping away from a cross guard, she'd seen it in motion. Somewhat speared at the tip, the dangerously sharp weapon curved up slightly at its end, to allow for both stabbing and cutting.

It seemed to beg for combat.

Much to her dismay, Sonat and Syzah had also purchased weapons with their pay, as had most of the crew. Likely by spending all of their savings from previous trips, considering the price of the military issued equipment which waited, gleaming on the walls of their private quarters. Both had purchased light-rifles and now had taken to wearing the much smaller light-pistols, each with ten expensive rounds of the ammunition.

If this had been out of the blue, she'd have put a stop to it immediately, but as things were, she was content to leave well-enough alone. Her crew had seen enough of their blood spilled, and their stares, when not occupied by the task at hand, brought Yitale chills. Everyone aboard her ship mourned. In different ways, perhaps, but they mourned all the same. Her fellow kin, especially.

As her species traditionally did, they did so in total silence. Barely a song could be heard, throughout the halls.

Her race had no official title, at least not one that was assigned among themselves. Their own titles and status sufficed, and when that did not, their language simply seemed to go around the subject by simply using a word that translated roughly to “others like themselves.” Though, most seperate species didn't bother with that cultural aspect.

By others, their race was known as "Sirens." The translation to Union Standard set as such, for their voices were melodies few species seemed to find they could stomach without a biosync to intervene. Thought to be one of the earlier known space-faring peoples, the home planets of Yitales ancestors had long since been all but abandoned for the stars. Sailors of large oceans taking to the sky over generations. The change in culture and values had molded in something almost nomadic, if there was such a thing on the galactic scale.

Trade and exploration were regarded as being above all other aspirations for the long lived species. To be part of a successful ship was regarded as a rank of status and class. Few of her kind was capable of any extended stay upon solid ground, though a select few had been known to take to planets with oceans or a culture of in-atmosphere travel in their retirement. The waves and endless horizons were a suitable replacement for the stars above, at times.

A cracking sound brought her attention once again to the human.

There it was again... The human had a strange mannerism in which it would twist it's joints to such pressure that audible pops of pressure were released. Doing so certainly seemed to put the newer members of the crew on edge, but she had come to the impression that he did it specifically to annoy her.

It was a trait she actually found reassuring, as it encouraged her to believe the human was not simply a sharp intellect mixed with pure killing-potential.

She and her guardian had reached their agreement behind closed doors. He would remain under the guise of a ship guardian, and he would follow her commands. In return for this she would assist him in finding if his people still existed. No records of fellow "human" could be found in any of her, or the recent station's, records. Her records of his "purchase" provided even less in the manner of details, simply listing him as "Unknown."

After a surprisingly lengthy and tense conversation, it was decided that the human would have no better chances to find others like himself, than to be on a trade vessel traveling to every known corner of the galaxy. Considering that Yitale's ship and crew would be well protected, this was a respectable deal. Both saw benefits, neither was overstepping to take advantage of the other, and the human's pay was adjusted to a high margin to partly compensate for the initial misunderstandings.

The only thing that Yitale had truly pressed, was that the human formally agree to stay by her spawn in the case of emergency. It was what she'd parted with so many credits for, after all: to find a creature that could protect her family, even if something were to happen to her or her ship. Yitale and the human had gone back and forth on that subject for some time, before finally hashing out one last agreement.

Her spawn would be prioritized, but so would Di'her: the medical officer.

Yitale was yet to understand its intentions entirely, but she had come to the belief that the human seemed almost "pack" oriented. It had been fierce on the point of the medical officer, and could be seen following her as often as Yitale or her spawn. Her new crew members had been treating Di'her as more than just a senior crew member because of it, and instead as someone of status.

Mostly this was due to a misunderstanding that none of the veterans seemed to be willing to address. The new crew seemed to think the human was just a mildly intelligent beast. That was to say, instead of recognizing the human as a creature capable of true thought and speech, they believed it was simply an extremely well-trained guardian of the ship.

From an outside view, this could almost seem to be the case. The collar Yitale had applied was fully fused to it's neck, and she'd never removed the brace from her wrist. Considering that the human's mannerisms were not entirely understandable without having been in it's company for extended periods of time. Or, at least, that none of the mannerisms translated, at the very least, it could be understood to a degree.

The main reason for this misunderstanding, though, was that the human, much to Yitale's amusement, did not correct the misunderstanding anymore than the veterans of her crew. Even though its biosync was fully integrated into that thick dermal layer, now leaving no visible trace (which allowed it to translate and communicate as it pleased) the human seemed perfecly happy to settle for quietly observing.

To Yitale's knowledge, the human only spoke to those who knew it could, and only when necessary.

She would have intervened with this, had it not been for the fact that the misunderstanding offered a real benefit. The hiring process was something of a mixed bag, and some of the new talent had snuck in on ambition alone. That was a danger all in and of itself, and many had been weeded out and left at the next port to be replaced by a more experienced counterpart. A trade vessel on the edges of the galactic frontier was no place for new blood to try their hand, that was what the inner-systems were for. Considering the contracts she had accepted, there was no time for training fresh-blood. The silent guardian would continue tipping her off on any transgressions within her crew, and she would continue to pretend that it was simply a beast.

For now, at least.

...

The military outpost wasn't the prettiest thing, but as far as importance went, the structure held its own over a long list of rivals. On a planet in one of the outer-most systems near the containment line, the facility was simply a ground base with a space elevator tethered to it. Outside of it's fixed orbit station, which was state of the art, the outpost itself was a relic.

Yet, it was a relic with a warp port, and that made all the difference.

Warp ports were hard to manage and maintain, but they were even more difficult to establish in the first place. The amount of trial and error involved with that process, was mind-boggling. To the point where complicated machines had been devised, simply to devised even more complicated machines- so those could safely manage the numbers involved.

Xios didn't like to think about the first poor souls drafted for the test runs.

Truthfully, it was almost sadistic. Comical in it's own strange way, as even now, the stations were essentially giant orbiting nets: made to catch incoming warp-spheres. As primitive as it could really get, considering what Union technology was capable of, yet considering the unpredictable nature of the task, they functioned well.

99.94 % of jumps were caught.

Around 0.03 % were recovered, eventually. The rest... The remainder had a different fate. “Acceptable losses” was what the military classified those as.

He classified those as "Better them than him."

Having been accepted at port once again, the synthetic body he'd chosen was bipedal, this time. For some reason he preferred these bodies to those that crawled on multiple limbs, or many of the other varieties. He had tried them all by now, and opted to settle on simplicity. Many of those structures were over complicated, vanity projects, and having less to worry about made things easier for Xios to focus.

He needed that focus.

Acting as a living parcel, he delivered his information by memory alone, and had reported to several different messengers, who in turn reported directly high command by means of FTL transit.

It had been sheer coincidence he had glanced up to check the holo-monitor at the terminal.

“Reports of Shipmaster and Ship-beast have become famous overnight here in Sector 7, as they apparently were boarded by a defected platoon of shock troopers turn pirates. Our initial reports show that every pirate was killed before the initial military task force could reach their distress signal. Total body count is over 50, not including crew casualties.” The reporte paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, and Xios felt a wave of curiosity.

A trade vessel, fighting off military trained board and breach troopers? That shouldn't be possible. At least, not without massive fire power.

Xios waited to hear about the fluke of luck, perhaps they had been carrying military weaponry as cargo and armed the crew in time to repel. Or, perhaps they had seen them attack coming and pulled some hard maneuvers leading to the pirate ship crashing; to his amazement he found nothing of the sort. The ship-beast had simply gone on a killing spree for the records.

Unbelievable.

He stood there for a good portion of the rotation as he watched the same report over, and over again, waiting for more information. The best he received for his wait was a simple video cast of the surviving crew walking off at the next port. Their ship had limped in, to say the very least, and the visible damage was tremendous- single red stripe of patchwork had been sealed over the bridge. As he waited he felt his patience slipping, and a grinding feeling on his molded nerves itch at him.

Then he saw it.

Directly before the video cut out, he saw a quick clip of the Siren in the scaled cloak, and standing next to it the ship-beast. It was just a snippet, barely enough time for him to lock the image into memory, but it had been there. The primal creature that had made history.

He had to speak to the ship master. He had more credits than he knew what to do with- If she was willing to sell the beast... No, no she wouldn't. The creature was priceless now, a bonafide killing machine like that didn't get sold to the highest bidder. Something like that was kept close at hand. Still, there was a chance she might be able to provide him the knowledge of where to find another. He searched his vast memory, but could find nothing that matched. This species was new to him, and considering he had traveled to every corner of the inhabited galaxy, that was saying quite a bit.

Finally, here was something worth chasing, a goal to seek. The fringes were a wonderful place indeed.

...

Ch'Korob has still amazed at his surroundings, and he had been onboard the trade-ship for over twenty rotations now. A simple Oxot like himself working on a Siren trade vessel, it was almost unbelievable. Most crews had some such variety, but it was widely known and respected that the most elite crews were those with a Siren Shipmaster. Especially those with recognition from the Trader Guild- and Siren Shipmasters were notoriously picky about other species on-board their vessels.

It was like a dream come true.

A songlike melody buzzed into understandable tones through his biolink, as he brought himself to stand at attention. His scales shifted color from a murky portrayal of his surroundings to a solid green as he consciously willed his natural camouflage under his control. Other new crew members stood in similar fashion, a few were Siren, but the others were of different species. He knew the closest of which, in respect to himself, was a Rullah, and he had quickly attempted to stay out it's way when he realized it was not the friendly merchant type he was used to on the surface. The Rullah had a body of significant strength. With one set of upper limbs which bore markings of military service, and another two sets of lower limbs which joined the muscular body in a sleek manner to gave it a streamlined appearance, it seemed to reek of danger. Each of the limbs ended in a three digit claw that clacked and clicked on the metal floor of the ship as it shifted positions, all of which seemed rather sharp to the Oxot.

On the far side of the room Ch'Korob could see two other new recruits which were unfamiliar to him. Like the Rullah, they too bore tattoos showing previous military service on their bodies, but their bodies themselves were covered in spiked carapace. In their case, it resembled armor, and likely had the same effect. With three sets of upper limbs seemed to end in overlapping clamp-like fashion, while their lower three sets of limbs seemed to be set at strange angles. Their movement gave off the impression of scuttling.

Turning his attention back over to his deep green scales, he inspected himself to be certain he was presentable. Like most Oxot he was physically strong when compared to most species in the Union, but Ch'Korob had never trained in combat. Many of his fellow hatchlings had gone out and joined rank with military units, but Ch'Korob had found his calling as an engineer. To join a successful ship had always been his goal, and he had slowly worked his way up with a series of difficult jobs. Starting as a simple orbital technician planet side, and going up from there. He had worked on ships in station-docking for seven cycles before getting this opportunity, but he was beginning to wonder if he had bit off more than he could chew. This was fringe work after all.

“As you all should know by now, Ship Master Yitale has obtained contracts with the Union military along the 89th section. We will be joining up with a convoy of ships along the trade-way and unloading cargo at the outposts as we travel. We will then receive payment and instructions for a second contract.” Their assigned Senior crew member had arrived and begun their briefing for the rotation. “I know many of you have grown rather impatient with the long stay at the previous port, but we had to be certain all new members of the crew were suitable and acclimated.”

That was certainly true, the interview process itself had stressed Ch'Korob past the point of his color control, and had been done in person by the shipmaster. The entire time he had been answering her questions and providing explanation, that ship-beast had been slowly circling. While it was docile in appearance but that pacing reminded Ch'Korob too much of a predatory beast. The thing he remembered the most was the sound of it's strange feet.

Oxot had surprisingly good hearing for a species that had no outer ears. They relied heavily on detecting vibrations through the scales on the bottom of their paws, which had evolved on the plains of their home world. When there was no true cover for miles, blending with the scenery and feeling motion from miles away had been true necessity, but for some reason the ship-beast seemed to walk almost imperceptibly.

Unlike most species, the creature seemed to have an almost triple touching step. It slipped lightly from it's toes, to a rounded section to the heel in a graceful sequence of bipedal motion. That was the grace of a hunter, and it reminded Ch'korob greatly of the death beasts that had preyed upon his species for thousands of years before Oxot had banded together in intelligent society and taken control of their home world. He recalled visiting a museum once while in a center world station. In it there were detailed studies and displays for public view on creatures long brought to extinction on any planet within the Union's reach. Creatures that had been too strong and primal to be truly tamed, or deemed a threat to intelligent life.

The ship-beast seemed to scream that same threat as it moved about. Where had the shipmaster found such a creature he dared not imagine.

As such, though, He had not been surprised to learn it came from a high gravity environment, but he had been surprised to learn how much power the shipmaster dedicated to the beast's pen to replicate it. Generally a ship engine was an unlimited use, as long as output was minimal it would persist for at least two hundred full cycles before needing replacement. Yet, the shipmaster was going to be lucky if theirs lasted fifteen at the rate it was in use. All ships had the function built in for gravity focus shifts, especially if certain cargo had specific conditions to be met. Generally though, even the hardiest of crews would never hold the gravity in any section of the ship for more than fifty percent over the standard galactic gravity constant.

Despite this, for some reason unknown to Ch'korob, the beast pen (which was a large open storage unit near the medical bay) was held at well over twice the normal gravity on the ship.

This was not part time either: the logs he could review showed that this was constant- even when at port.

Most of the crew would only be able to survive in an environment like that for a maximum of three rotations before they were simply incapable of breathing without assistance, and it had almost killed one of the previous recruits who had walked in unknowingly while performing a routine check of the ship maintenance panels. The poor recruit's heavy equipment had brought him to the floor and held him there until he was discovered by his shift replacement a rotation later.

Yet, the ship-beast slept there and occasionally stayed there for extended periods of time without issue.

Yes that creature gave Ch'korob a very uneasy feeling. Just thinking about the thing gave a sensation of scales being abraded.

“As you know, this rotation we will be performing the routine checks on the life support system, and likely be providing maintenance for a few exosuits in the hanger bay.” A soft voice lifted through the cabin as it listed the shift instructions, and drew Ch'Korob's wandering thoughts back to the briefing.

Their senior went by the name of Di'her, and was honestly not very impressive or distinguished in Ch'Korob's opinion. To her credit though, she had managed to survive an encounter with one of the most notorious pirate ships in recent memory. Her white suit seemed in sharp contrast with their black and gray uniforms, and it marked her as a medical officer that was filling in. This was unusual, but it seemed to fit with the trend of unusual things on the ship.

For the engineering unit to have a Senior medical officer as their commanding unit spoke lengths to the damaged suffered by the previous trade route. At first this had been treated with displeasure by the new recruits, as they obviously expected some warlike menace and impressive physical stature. How else would one expect an engineer on a trade vessel along the fringes? Apparently, and much to everyone's surprise, Di'her had held the role as an engineer in a previous contract aboard the ship, and transitioned to medical officer. Although she did not have a warlike appearance, or much in the way of physical stature, she did provide excellent instruction on the subtle nuances of the aging ship.

Ch'Korob's respect for the Siren had increased slightly over time. He seemed to be alone in that regard. For some species, it was clear that appearances were everything.

“I still do not see why we are not trusted to work without the guidance of an officer outside out trade.” The Rullah spoke in a fierce tongue, and their translators were unable to mask it entirely. It snorted roughly as it cocked it's sleek head to the left, in a sign of displeasure. “We should not be forced to obey a member of the crew who is not the shipmaster, especially not one who has not earned our respect.”

Any who had ever encountered a Rullah would know that they were a proud species. Proud, and rather violently stubborn as well. Merchants, traders, scientists, and warriors, once a Rullah's respect was earned, they were known to be fiercely loyal.

That was just the difficult part though: earning that respect.

As fellow crew and as soldiers they were held in high regard, being a perfect mix of intelligence and ferocity. For anyone else, though, they were simply difficult. Sometimes, they were both difficult and dangerous. Considering Rullah were omnivores often put such an association into a different light.

Their tiny Siren crew leader stared up at the larger alien, with pure green eyes calm and her long slender tail shifting in a slow lazy whip. Agitation was clear, but not unease. Even as the Rullah towered over her, easily another half her height and maybe three times her mass, she stood her ground.

The slow clicking of the Rullah's claws seemed to ring through the scales on Ch'Korob's feet like tiny tremors. The crew watching this gave off an almost palpable sensation of displeasure, this scenario was not something any of them wanted to become involved in.

On the far side of the room though, there was slight movement toward the Rullah by the two shelled aliens. Perhaps, they thought some shared military background might warrant enough respect to encourage the Rullah to back down. Yet, a cracking hit flew from one of the Rullah's clawed limbs to throw the closest one on it's back without so much as a glance in their direction.

The other froze in place, not prepared to scuttle closer.

“I will take orders from the shipmaster Yitale. I have seen her scars, and she has earned my respect. You, though? You have done nothing. I do not agree with this.” The Rullah reared up on it's back-most limbs, presenting an impressive display of height and danger. All of it's claws angled in a formidable array as it balanced, before slamming down upon the hull to bring it's face directly level with the Siren's. Her long mane of hair rustled back with the long exhalation that followed. She did not blink.

It was then Ch'Korob made to step forward and try to stop what was likely going to occur. Di'her was about to be gravely injured if she did not break that challenging gaze. The medical officer was directly meeting a Rullah's cultural behavior to consent for a duel, regardless of whether she realized it. Barely two steps towards the confrontation, and his scales shivered. That abrasive feeling grated up his spine as rough motion was felt through the floor.

He turned to see the beast had entered the room and was staring down the Rullah. It was time to get out of the way. The Rullah turned it's sleek form away from Di'her and faced the ship-beast instead, it's slit nostrils flaring as it assessed the creature. The beast met it's gaze and glided along with that casual grace, each step taking it barely any visible effort, until the two were face to face.

Height wise, the Rullah stood a unit above the beast, but only because it had reared up on it's back legs. The beast, seemed unconcerned by the pose, and held the gaze with those strange eyes. The long scar on it's back caught the light in the room in an eerie fashion as it stood completely motionless. The other lesser scars seemed to catch in similar fashion as the beast straightened it's posture.

Aside from the tattoo of military service, the Rullah bore only a few scars, and none of any great size. When tallied in comparison to the creature that stood before it, the difference seemed to shout at all who had eyes. This would not end in the Rullah's favor.

Slowly, the Rullah lowered itself back to the ground. The staring continued, but the intensity of the situation had passed. It blinked once, and the ship-beast did the same, before abruptly turning and leaving the room as quickly as it had arrived. Ch'Korob could swear one of his hearts had stopped beating during that confrontation, and the Rullah looked equally spooked. Where in all the void had shipmaster Yitale found that thing?